


Regretfulness

by Deadpan9618



Series: Of Springstars And Sunflowers [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Has PTSD (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crying, Crying During Sex, Dubious Consent, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Quite a lot of crying, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), minor fluff, they mean well but they're terrible at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadpan9618/pseuds/Deadpan9618
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have... been through a lot, to say the least. But they have ways of dealing with their trauma, ways of helping each other forget.It's just a shame their really, REALLY bad at it.
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Series: Of Springstars And Sunflowers [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802824
Kudos: 18





	Regretfulness

**Author's Note:**

> please check tags.
> 
> this is set toward the end of this series, but i wanted to write it as a little vent/de-stress piece and to get it out of my system. I just wanted to say that i mean that they are terrible at this, what you are about to read is awful bdsm etiquette. while it is true that, in some cases, bdsm is helpful in healing trauma if done with a trustworthy partner, you do need safewords and clear boundaries, both of which these idiots don't have. their still figuring things out, and maybe one day they'll get it right. who knows? when you've got the rest of your life ahead of you, anything is possible, even healing from terrible experiences.

Nggh- Crowley, I- Fuck-”

Aziraphale screamed in pain as he felt the mark of a lash against his leg. Inside his head, the angel could almost see the long bruise that would form there, transforming from black-and-blue to purple, then to a soft yellow hue, before it faded entirely.

It was delicious to know that, even if it was just for a few weeks, Aziraphale would carry Crowley’s Mark on his body, a beautiful, tender reminder that Aziraphale was Crowley’s in every way possible. The thought had Aziraphale pushing his hips up once again, searching for friction that, despite the blindfold obscuring his vision, he knew he wouldn’t find. 

“Good angels don’t say naughty words, do they, Aziraphale?” Crowley gritted out, panting slightly, no doubt from both the physical and mental exertion that he was putting himself through. 

Aziraphale knew that it was hard for Crowley to hurt him, even if it was something Aziraphale wanted and explicitly asked for. It reminded Crowley of his own past, memories coming flooding back of times when he was on the receiving end of this abuse, except in his case, it was nearly always unwanted. But that was why they were doing this; to let Crowley relive his own trauma, to put him in a position of power, to let him call the shots. Aziraphale was more than happy to provide this absolution for him; he had seen how it helped. Crowley now carried himself with more confidence than he had in a long time, his control over Aziraphale giving him control over his emotions and trauma. Aziraphale adored the dynamic they had fallen into in the bedroom, and sometimes in their regular, public lives too, and the fact that it helped Crowley put all the demons that haunted him to rest, if only for a short while, was the icing on the cake.

“Do good angels say naughty words, Aziraphale? Answer me.”

Aziraphale swallowed the saliva that flooded his throat, and attempted to regain the power of speech from where it was hiding inside the calm oceans of subspace that flooded his mind, it’s waters turning Aziraphale into what he longed to be for Crowley, a toy for him to play with, a pet to abuse whenever he wanted.

Aziraphale cried out as he received yet another lash, right across the chest this time, right below his breast. A warning that if he didn’t obey, his sensitive nipples would soon be on the other end of the whip.

“I want to hear what you have to say for yourself, darling.”

Aziraphale attempted to ignore Crowley’s mocking usage of that particular term and swallowed once again. “I’m sorry, sir. I-I wanted to cum, sir.”

Crowley scoffed, staring down at Aziraphale’s cock where it protruded, blood-hot and nearly purple from denial and want, from its nest of blonde curls.  
“Pain really doesn’t deter you at all, does it? In fact, it probably only makes you harder.” Crowley barked out a cruel laugh and slapped Aziraphale’s leg, right where he whipped it, causing him to squeal like a stuck pig. “Filthy, filthy boy. Bad angel.” Aziraphale groaned, his cock twitching from the degradation, his balls aching and practically begging to be emptied. “You’re so beautiful like this, do you know that? Sitting there, looking positively virginal, when really you’re a whore who’d spread his legs for anyone who wanted to use you.” Aziraphale moaned, thrusting his hips up. “Oh, poor baby. You’d do anything to cum, wouldn’t you?”

Aziraphale shifted again, beyond desperate now. “A-Anything, sir, please!”

“But you’re just so pretty there, relying on me for your pleasure, unable to even touch yourself.” Aziraphale flexed his bound wrists and thrashed about in sheer frustration, arousal sparking up and down his body, his every nerve screaming for Crowley’s touch. “I think I’ll make that a rule. You’re not allowed to touch yourself. Anytime you get hard and want release you’re gonna have to come to me for it. And you’re never gonna be sure you’re gonna get it. Might just leave you, tied up like you are now, have some tea and watch you beg. Squeeze you until you’re begging for me to stop. Make you think better of ever asking.”

Suddenly, slick fingers pressed against Aziraphale’s hole. The touch was barely even there, but it was such an indescribable relief after so long without it.

“Ff- please, please-”

“Shut up.” 

“I-I need, I need it, please, please-”

“I said shut up!”

Aziraphale screamed as Crowley grabbed his balls and pulled, feeling them being yanked away from his body. Aziraphale thrashed once again, this time in pain, not pleasure.

“You stupid fucking bitch! You always push me too far, always act like you deserve pleasure!” Aziraphale whimpered, his head cloudy. He wasn’t even sure where he was anymore, barely even had the ability to comprehend words anymore. He only knew that Crowley was angry, very angry with him.

Tears soaked Aziraphale’s face.

“You act like you matter! You act like you don’t fucking exist to serve me!”

It was all too much. The quivering angel burst into desperate, broken sobs, unable to even think. Some part of him told him it was going too far, they needed to stop, but Aziraphale couldn’t even comprehend having to tell Crowley no.  
Aziraphale was dragged out of his head by the feeling of wet fingers probing his hole, and whined, attempting to push back on them, his forgotten cock leaving a mess on the bed-spread.

It was speckled with stars.

“Just remember; you deserve this.”

For once, you didn’t try to remain cool and unaffected, apathetic. 

Aziraphale grunted as Crowley carelessly shoved the slick digits inside, scissoring them to open Aziraphale up, impatient.

You looked so happy when you saw it in the shop.

Aziraphale sobbed as Crowley viciously rubbed against his prostate, and pushed back against him, crying out, desperate for it. Crowley chuckled.

You called me your starlight. You said when you first saw me in the Garden, you thought I must have fallen straight from the night sky.

Crowley decided Aziraphale had been opened up enough, and moved up onto the bed, rubbing his turgid cock against Aziraphale’s arsehole, the heat of it making the angel shudder. He wasn’t sure whether he should willingly take it or struggle. He knew Crowley would get what he wanted anyway.

That was before he took you.

Crowley shoved in with brutal thrusts, his careless cock seeking pleasure and warmth, unconcerned with anything else.

He put lies in your head. Tried to tell you what you were. That you should stay with him, that you belonged there in that festering pit, that you were destined to be his toy forever.

They were both panting, the hot, heady smell of sex filling their room, the sound of skin on skin and Aziraphale’s quiet moans intoxicating them both. The outside world seemed far away, everything narrowed down to the two of them, together, in this moment, at this time. Nothing else existed.

But you found your way back to me.

“That’s right bitch. You’re nothing. You. Are. Nothing. Just a little slut. My little slut.”

You didn’t know who you were, but I did.

“Yeah. You’re mine. You’re fucking mine. No one else wants you. You’re mine forever, you understand?”

I still do.

“You’re my little angel. My Aziraphale. I love you. I’m gonna make you stay with me. I will never let you leave.”

I still do.

“Crowley.”

Aziraphale was shocked how clearly that word came out, despite the fact he was breaking apart. He never thought Crowley would join the chorus of mocking voices that constantly spoke to him, his siblings who bullied him, the archangels who belittled him. But this wasn’t Crowley speaking. He knew it wasn’t.

“Crowley, I need you to stop. Red.”

Crowley had stopped, a confused, almost vacant look on his face. He made a small sound, shifted his hips. 

Shit.

Aziraphale had managed to break himself out of subspace. Now he needed to break Crowley out of his memories.

“Crowley, I know this isn’t you.”

Crowley’s face screwed up into a strange expression, so he looked half angry and half about to cry.

“Your name is Crowley. You are currently on earth, in our bookshop. You are with me, Aziraphale, your husband. I am an angel, but I am not your enemy. I am not trying to hurt you. No one is trying to hurt you. Everything is okay. You’re here, with me.” Aziraphale recited the same familiar sentences he always said when Crowley got trapped in his head, literally bringing him back to earth.

But he just sat there, blinking. Aziraphale knew that look. He knew that, after being manipulated and gaslit for so long, it was sometimes hard for Crowley to sort out what was real and what was lies. But Aziraphale was patient. He knew his Crowley. And now he wanted him back.

“Crowl-”

“SHUT UP!” Crowley screamed suddenly. Aziraphale would have covered his ears if he could, but bound as he was, he felt helpless. Even though he could easily miracle himself out, his powers were forgotten in concern for Crowley.

The demon was panting with exertion, his face twisted in a horrific specter of anguish. “Just stop it! Your mine now, Aziraphale! Mine!”

Except Crowley didn’t say Aziraphale. He said another name entirely.

He said that name.

And Crowley seemed to realise that, because as soon as he finished his sentence his eyes opened wide, his face dropping in terror. “No. No, I didn’t mean to- no. No. Oh my god, no, no, what have I done, no, no,” And Crowley continued, repeating it over and over again as Aziraphale finally freed himself and crawled over to where his poor, sweet husband lay shaking and crying, curled up on himself as he sobbed and sobbed.

“Oh dearest, it’s alright, it’s okay, I’m sorry, this was a terrible idea, to relinquish so much control- oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry.”

The demon sniffed and stared up at Aziraphale, amber eyes red from crying. “Was my fault. I was horrible. I just wanted.. I just…”

“Oh love, do you want to talk about it?”

Crowley wiped his nose and gave a brave smile, mouth wobbling at the corners, eyes unfocusing and darting back and forth. Aziraphale could tell he was struggling to remain lucid and gently squeezed his love’s arm, trying to keep him grounded.

“I wanted to… I wanted to hurt him. W-Wanted to… control him. Like he controlled me.” Crowley clenched and unclenched his fists over and over again, eyes darkening. “He hurt me. He hurt you. He hurt Adam, he hurt… he hurt everyone. I wanted to punish him. I wanted to… I just wanted…”

“I know what you wanted. You’re not a monster for wanting it.” Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Sometimes… I want it too.”

Crowley sobbed. “But you wouldn’t hurt me like he hurt me, like I just hurt you.” Crowley blinked, and some of that old, familiar fear returned to his eyes. “...Right?”

Aziraphale shook his head, heart breaking even more so than usual when these sorts of things happened. The emotion of the night was getting to him, even though he was trying his hardest not to let it. “I’d never hurt you. And I know you would never hurt me.”

Crowley thumped his fist on the bed, somewhat childishly. “But I did!”

Aziraphale frowned. “You didn’t hurt me yourself, per se, you were just… repeating someone else’s words. That’s all, dearest. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Crowley scowled and shook his head, red curls bouncing as he fisted the bedsheets in his hand. “No, Aziraphale, I won’t yield on this one. I hurt you, and I accept full responsibility.” Crowley hissed that last word and turned his face away from the angel, and when he spoke again his voice was racked with sobs. “I just hate this. I hate living like this, day after day, night after night, not knowing what’s real and what’s fake. He poisoned me, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice broke on the last bit, and Aziraphale pressed his lips together to stop himself from crying, because he knew Crowley could have meant that all too literally. “And you always try to help me, and it exhausts you and I can’t help you. I can’t give you anything but this;” He gestured at the whip, now lying abandoned on the floor, slightly covered in blood, which made Crowley retch a bit. He hated the slightest bit of the stuff could affect him so badly now; it never did before, even after everything. “And now I’ve ruined this. I’ve ruined the one thing I could ever give you.” Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck, eyes squeezed shut. “I really am a demon.”

“Oh, Crowley. Can I see you, dear?” 

Crowley nodded and lifted his head up, though his beautiful snake eyes remained resolutely focused on the floor, in shame at his nature, his very self. All the things he had been told by hell, about who he was, how despicable he was because of his existence as a demon, were clearly reflected in his demeanor. His belief that it was all his fault.

“Crowley, I know that sometimes it’s… hard, to forget everything they told you about yourself. Lord knows that I still think of myself as a mere extension of God’s Will, made to accomplish Her goals, and that I’m worthless otherwise. And it may or may not be easier for me to tell myself these things are lies than it is for you. But I know,” Aziraphale said softly, spreading his arms out in an offering of physical contact, just in case Crowley, who was so often averse to it and who once screamed himself hoarse when Aziraphale accidentally brushed against his shoulder, required it now. But it didn’t look like tonight was going to be one of those nights when Crowley welcomed Aziraphale’s embrace. Not anymore, anyway. “That you are more than what those… bastards told you.” Crowley did look up then, stunned that an angel who had spent most of his existence avoiding swears of any kind in any language was exhibiting such a foul mouth. “You may be a demon, and I don’t pretend that’s ever going to change, and I don’t insinuate that you have to be happy as you are. But you, Crowley, are kind. You are beautiful, and that reflects itself in your appearance,” Crowley hurriedly looked down again, suddenly self-conscious. “All aspects of your appearance,” Aziraphale corrected himself. “Even the ones you may not find desirable. And it reflects itself in your actions, Crowley. Remember the other day, when that little boy’s mother refused to buy him any sweets? You went into the shops just to buy him a lollipop. He was so happy, and you smiled so. Do you remember that?”

Crowley sniffed. “It was quite evil, really. His mum obviously didn’t want him to have it, and by buying it for him I was encouraging him to break the law, disobey and challenge authority. He’ll be a great criminal when he’s older.”

Aziraphale let a little grin enter his face. “Do you really believe that, love?”

Crowley looked up at him, and to Aziraphale’s shock, he was smiling. “Well, it’ll rot his teeth, anyway.”

Aziraphale laughed, and nodded. “Yes, very, very evil of you, dear.” The angel paused and looked away, still smiling, but more solemn. “Do you remember… the day we bought that lovely quilt in that dear little shop near Oxford?”

Crowley frowned. “Was this… Before?”

Aziraphale nodded again. He knew this was a risky move. Crowley often got upset if he found he didn’t remember something from Before, Before that creature had taken him away from his happiness up on earth with Aziraphale. But perhaps he would remember. Hopefully he would remember.

But Crowley said nothing.

Aziraphale sighed. He couldn’t help but be… angry that all those happy memories were ripped away, something that was once beautiful; tarnished, forevermore.

He wasn’t angry at Crowley of course, though. Aziraphale knew who’s fault it was. And that… being, something so abhorrent that it couldn’t even be called a demon, was to blame. 

All Aziraphale could do was try to fix the mess he made. Because he knew it was his fault; he was the one who suggested roleplay, he was the one that pushed Crowley into this, he was the one that let things go too bloody far. And now? Now he had to fix it.

“We were coming back to London from Tadfield. We’d just had quite a fun day with Adam and his friends; do you remember that?”

Crowley smiled. What surprised Aziraphale sometimes was that Crowley always remembered all of the times they visited The Them, without fail. Though Aziraphale supposed, considering Crowley and Adam’s history, it wasn’t all that shocking.

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I said, ‘wouldn’t it be lovely if we popped into Oxford for a while?’ I hadn’t been there since the 17th Century, and it is such a lovely town. So I thought we could spend a weekend there, maybe. Have some fun, we hadn’t been on holiday together in ages. So we booked into this lovely little inn; you used your mobile device to do it, as I recall. It was rather clever! You called it an ‘Air B-B’ or something like that-” Crowley let out his gorgeous bark of a laugh, grinning ear to ear. Aziraphale knew, without him saying, that Crowley remembered. Or at least, he remembered a bit of it. Enough to look upon the event with fondness, at least. 

“Yes, you booked the hotel with Air B-B, and it was such a lovely place, the woman who ran it was just wonderful, she baked muffins for us! And we went all around town, to all the museums and colleges, and you told me all about the time you became known in the area as a heretical scholar and everything you wrote was burned by the catholic church!”

Crowley puffed himself up in pride. “That does sound like something I would do.”

“Yes, and then we went to the shops, and oh! They were wonderful! It was late november, so all of the shops had their decorations up! Oh, the christmas tree! It was the best one I’d ever seen! And there was this little nativity that was so accurate I thought the maker might’ve been there themself! But anyway,” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “We went into a furniture emporium, and there was enough there to decorate a million houses! We looked at everything, and while you didn’t consent to letting me redesign your whole flat, I did choose some lovely pieces for the bookshop.”

“Surely must’ve been the first time it ever had any sort of modern revamp, yes?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call anything I chose ‘modern’. But even though you were determined to leave the shop empty handed, I saw it. A beautiful duvet, dotted with stars. And I thought of that dull black affair you had and,” Aziraphale sniffed. “And I knew you would just love it.”

Crowley was the one to reach out, as usual; He took Aziraphale’s face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. “I remember now. I called you my starlight. I told you what I thought when I first saw you in the Garden. I thought you were a stolen, fiery piece of the night sky, Aziraphale. I still do.” Aziraphale couldn’t stop the tears from escaping him at this, and Crowley ever-so-tenderly wiped them away. “And when I fell in love with you there, I promised to myself that, even though you were an angel and I was a demon, I would never harm you, and I would never allow any harm to come to you. But I lied.” Pure anguish was etched on the serpent's elegant features, amber eyes swimming with sadness. “I lied to you, angel. I’m sorry.”

“No, dearest, no. If anything,” Aziraphale drew a shaky breath. “If anything, I am the one at fault here. I suggested the whole ‘BDSM’ thing in the first place. I know that, for humans, it can sometimes be a healthy way to cope with trauma, if done properly and safely. But I may have pushed you too far. I got lost in my own desires, because our scenes help me too, sometimes, though I know that must sound awfully selfish of me.” Crowley began to protest, but Aziraphale shushed him. “I got caught up in myself and what I wanted, Crowley, in exactly the same way you did. We are both guilty of the same sins.”

Oof. Maybe that was the wrong term to use. Crowley hung his head and collapsed onto the covers. “So, we’re both as bad as each other?” 

Aziraphale gave a wan smile. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

Crowley got up, looked Aziraphale straight in the eye with such intensity it felt he was looking in all of Aziraphale’s other, extradimensional eyes too, and then had the audacity to laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you can see the bright side, dearheart.”

“I’m glad too!” Said Crowley slightly hysterically, tears streaming down his cheeks. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if they were from sadness or laughter, but, either way, Aziraphale was always there to wipe away Crowley’s tears.

And he always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed. constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
